Seven boys remained.
Every corner of the hostel now seemed like a trap. Every sound felt suspicious — a floorboard creak, a door slam, even the wind brushing past the windows. Fear had changed them. They barely talked, barely ate. Only Aryan kept notes — writing everything down in a small notebook, hoping it would help him find a pattern.
That evening, Ravi and Karan decided to leave.
"I don't care if we lose our deposit," Ravi said. "We need to get out of here."
"No one's stopping you," Aryan replied, though his voice sounded hollow. "Just… let me know if you make it."
They packed quickly and walked out into the dark street. As they passed Mr. Mishra's office, the old man stepped out.
"You won't leave," he said simply.
"We're not asking for permission," Karan snapped.
Mr. Mishra didn't stop them. He just gave a crooked smile and turned away.
Ten minutes later, Aryan's phone buzzed.
A message from Karan.
Just one word:
"Turn."
Confused, Aryan ran outside.
The gate was wide open, the street empty. No sign of Ravi or Karan. Just silence.
Until Aryan looked back toward the hostel.
Standing near the top floor window — two figures. Pale. Still.
Watching him.
He ran back inside and grabbed Vishal. "They're gone," he whispered. "They never left."
They both climbed to the top floor, holding their breath. The air was ice cold.
A new door had appeared at the very end of the hall — one none of them had ever seen before. Steel, rusted, and locked with heavy chains.
Aryan stepped closer. From behind it, he could hear whispers… and scratching.
And something else.
Breathing.
Heavy. Hungry. Patient.
He took a step back, but something moved in the corner of his eye.
A hand. White. Boneless. Reaching out from the wall beside the door.
Vishal screamed and pulled him back down the stairs.
Later, Aryan wrote in his notebook:
> The hostel is changing. Adapting. Feeding. It didn't want them to leave. It made sure they never did.
Now, only five remained.